


Stories Along the Harbour's Edge

by elle_ish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And the team worrying about him, Angst, CPR, Childhood Friends, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I really just wanted injured Keith, Lance is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Nothing Sexual, Past Child Abuse, References to Depression, Shiro is bad at feelings, Shiro uses pain as a way to deal, Team as Family, This started out as a character study for Shiro, somewhat graphic depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-04 00:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_ish/pseuds/elle_ish
Summary: After Keith is severely injured in battle, Shiro reminisces to the first day they’d met, and realizes how he’s been enamoured by that little boy he found collapsed by the ocean’s shore ever since.





	1. Was it Fate

**Author's Note:**

> My writing always comes out so corny, cheesy, and over the top. My god. This story encompasses ALL of those things. Be aware. They're scarier than the tags.
> 
> Warnings: somewhat graphic depictions of a serious injury and blood. As well, later on in the work, Depression will be a discussed topic for one of the characters. Letting everyone know for possible triggers. As well, this is not beta'd, as I am my own editor. Mistakes are bound to be made, and I apologize in advance.

Shiro believed that everyone gets one wish granted in their lifetime. His Dad even told him so. When you’re a child and you wish for something so desperately, every day of your life, it’s bound to come true eventually. Just that one wish, one that wasn’t a simple, materialist object which could be bought from a store, would be granted by the powers that be.

And when that one wish comes true, Shiro’s Dad confessed with a joking expression, you usually come to regret it when you’re older.

His Mom at the time had laughed and regretfully agreed. She told Shiro about an actor of old, Omar Sharif, that she had studied once in her Early Classic Film elective during University. She said he had the most mesmerizing chocolate brown eyes, likened to her own, but he had a single red vein, running horizontal from the corner straight into his pupil. She felt it was a look of beauty; it gave him a wisdom and depth way beyond his years. She wished on every chance she could that she could have that as vein as well, and thus be viewed as wise and beautiful. 

She did end up with the same vein eventually, and had regretted the wish ever since. 

Shiro giggled at the idiotic wish, eating of his Mom’s cookies while he asked his Dad what his what his wish had been. His Dad looked over the scene with a gleam in his eyes and a small, hidden smile. He seemed proud but remained quiet.

Shiro later realized that he never said what his wish was.

Shiro grew up on the shores across from of a small city. It was big enough that there was always an abundance of resources: Things to do, friends to see, games to be played. But it was small enough to still easily escape into the quiet of nature when everything became too much.

Late at night he and his Dad would take a walk along the sea wall just to watch the lights flicker and dance across the waves of the inner harbour. If they listened closely they could hear the sirens and wails of horns from the bustling nightlife of a city, but mostly it’d be quiet, with the greys hues of the ships rocking back and forth along the ocean’s top. It was peaceful from here, on this side. It had been Shiro’s favourite place in the whole wide world, and he’d count down the seconds until he’d be forced to go home, resenting the moment it eventually occurred.

He had both the quiet and rush of the city. Hustle and bustle and friends at every corner, the ability of anonymity, but when he needed to get away from all of the noise, it was just a short walk from one side to the other, back to his home. At his point of his young life, Shiro believed he had the best of both worlds.

The quiet, though, hadn’t been so nice after Shiro’s mother passed away when he was 8. His Dad tried his best to make up for the lack of a parent by doing everything for his child and nothing for himself. Shiro, young and naive, felt as though he’d cry all day long when she was no longer with him. He knew it hurt his Dad to see. 

His Dad, who had remained so stoic, kept everything he felt covered up and bottled it deep inside himself. Shiro was enamoured by the concept. He too didn’t want everyone to know he was in pain, to wear his heart on his sleeve. He didn’t want to burden others with his own problems of emotion. 

He wanted to be brave, a soldier marching forward in times of adversity. He wanted to be in control of his every move, of his every facial expression. He’d put everyone before himself, just like his Pop.

He even practiced, and wished on every shooting star he saw to one day become like his father.

Shiro regretted all of those granted wishes now, to hide his emotions from his teammates, to be the shoulder to lean on when all he wanted to do was breakdown. 

The Paladins never got breaks, and Shiro found himself sleeping less and less on the average night; nightmares always seemed to get the better of him as of late. 

But what good did it all do? Shiro was in a living nightmare right now.

“Keith, come on, buddy. Wake up, wake up!” Blood was everywhere, pooling around Keith’s limp form and around Shiro’s hunched knees, embedding into the dented, metallic platform.

He could hear Lance asking questions through the com, panic rising as the Blue Paladin tried to understand the situation.

Pidge asked nothing and instead told Shiro they’d be right there, the Castle not too far away.

They were still fighting. They were still in battle. Creatures were still waiting to be freed. And Shiro couldn’t move. He could push himself away from his friend, instead tore at his battered chest armour so he could start chest compressions. He couldn’t understand the world around him, only focusing on pushing the fear deeper and further away. Emotions like these would one day cause for an explosion, Shiro knew. He’d would lose his cool, have a melt down from the repressed memories. But for now? Shiro had to remain calm.

Blood from one of the many opened wounds along Keith’s torso poured into Shiro’s hand while he pushed down on his sternum.

At thirty, he tipped Keith’s chin back and opened his mouth, blowing air into the opened entry.

He started his compressions again.

Keith had already been hurt earlier, had been told to go back to the Castle. Lance had made the joke that he wouldn’t be much use to everyone dead. They could take it from here.

But Keith, ever the rebel, didn’t take orders. After being hit by the explosion and knocking his head, he did listen at first. Shiro gave him that. 

With Shiro’s help the two made it back to the Red Lion, who immediately began to fly her injured Paladin away to the safety of the Castle. They had almost made it, too, when Keith’s goddamn instincts kicked in and his gut told both him and Red to turn around. 

Shiro didn’t notice, but Red stalled mid air before diving back down to the ground. 

Shiro didn’t know this, but when he returned to his post, another Galra fleet had snuck up and attacked. It was one against thirty. Uneven and cruel.

He didn’t know this, but Keith had seen the troop from above. He somehow trudged his way back towards Shiro, knowing the Black Paladin was in trouble. 

And just as history had always shown, Keith always returned, always went out of his way to save Shiro: from flying across canyons on empty planets to facing Zarkon to save the Black Lion, Keith’s first and foremost thought had always been Shiro’s safety. Maybe he knew Shiro wasn’t Shiro’s first concern. Ever.

Shiro didn’t know this, but Keith, even injured and probably concussed, took down ten soldiers who tried to attack Shiro from behind while his back was turned. Shiro didn’t notice, too busy yelling commands to Pidge or Hunk who were still flying above. 

Shiro did know that when he turned, he saw a gun pointed in his direction, aimed perfectly towards his heart. He heard the shot fire, and noticed a splash of red and white jump as he tried to defend himself, throwing his arms over his own head. The coloured abstraction became physical, and pushed Shiro away at the last possible moment. 

The shot exploded at impact becoming a bomb. It tore Keith’s armour into fragmented little pieces, sharper than shattered glass.

Bits were even embedded into his chest after Shiro had tried his best to push it all away. The pieces cut into Shiro’s hands during each compression, the pain keeping him stable and on the ground. 

More shots fired but each seemed to miss the two Paladins lying on the floor. The shots exploded, shaking the ground beneath Shiro’s feet like an earthquake.

He felt himself hiccup, Keith’s pale face still relentless as though telling Shiro that he wasn’t going to wake up just because Shiro wanted him to. He’d wake up when he felt like it. No one could command him any differently.

The battle continued on, bombs continued exploding, and blood continued to pour. People were speaking to Shiro through the coms, but to Shiro, the world was quiet, still as the nights with his Dad along the harbour wall. 

Now it was just him and Keith while Shiro counted down the seconds, begging for the moment someone could take them both away from this place. 

*********

Allura had gasped almost immediately after Keith was shoved into the pod. The yellow colour turned a sour grey. And instead of looking serene, Keith’s face contorted into an awful expression. The pod seemed to be attacking him, his muscles visibly contracting and expanding through his pained tremors. 

Shiro didn’t understand: shouldn’t Keith be healing? Why was he in more distress? Why was more blood leaking from his cut open veins?

Allura jumped forward, quickly dismantling the mechanism and tearing the Red Paladin away. Shiro didn’t scream or yell in protest, instead he remained still as he watched the Princess carry Keith away, pressing her hand over one of the larger wounds to control the bleeding. 

Quickly regaining his senses, he moved forward and shoved Allura. He reached for Keith’s still limp body from her hands, dragging him into his own arms. It was impressive how much like a rag doll he’d become, his spine arching terribly backwards and his neck and chest distorting into an uncomfortable position. 

Shiro breathed heavily, staring at the Princess before quietly asking her what the hell she was doing. With a hand over her mouth and a wide-eyed expression, Allura explained that Keith’s DNA wouldn’t mend well with the cryopods, how it would kill him rather than save him. The pods had been built specifically anti-Galra during the commencement of the Universal War between Alfor and Zarkon. It was the purest and harshest form of spite at the time. They could save anyone in the entire galaxy that wasn’t Galra.

Shiro remained in shock, wanting to cry but keeping the hurt building up inside his chest down.

“He needs help.” Shiro had practically begged, dried blood now crusted along his fingertips. “He’s mostly human, practically ¾’s human. How could the cryopods not help him. Why did we not have this information earlier?!”His voice was rising. He was losing his cool. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

Allura backed up, guilt strewn over her features.

“I-I completely forgot about- I’m sorry, Shiro. I never even thought about the possibility- This is my fault, I’m so sorry-“

Shiro was about to continue arguing, had wanted to yell, scream, anything.

He bit his lip and turned away. He watched the control room window, the Castle Ship having created a wormhole. They were safe for now, in the silence of Space. Keith always said it had looked beautiful. But to Shiro it just looked like everywhere else: dark and broody and an inescapable maze. 

“This isn’t time the time to place blame. Where can we put him, Allura?”

Shiro felt Keith’s body tremble from his own shaking arms.

Coran came up to Shiro, Pidge in tow. They explained how they had set something up, a make-shift bed and mechanical ventilator all ready to go. They’d have to treat Keith as though he were a patient in a hospital, everything done the old fashioned way.

Even though he didn’t want to let go, he let Hunk take Keith’s body down to the med bay, and Lance rested a hand on Shiro’s shoulder with a hard squeeze. Lance never said or asked anything, instead just stayed by Shiro’s side in silence. 

Shiro figured they both needed the support right now.

*********

It had been four whole days since Keith went into a coma. Four whole days since Shiro had seen that familiar spark in deep violet eyes or felt the warmth of calloused fingertips graze along his shoulder blade. Four whole days since Zarkon’s troops attacked.

Shiro had remained by Keith’s side, leaving only to run to the washroom or shower. He didn’t find himself alone in his worry. At different intervals, each teammate would join him, sit with him or lay their head along Keith’s bed, holding onto his bandaged hand. 

Right now, Shiro sat beside the machines, listening to the somehow both anxiety inducing yet stress relieving _beep---beep---beep_ of the respirator _._ Pidge and Allura sat in chairs at the end of the bed near Keith’s feet, while Lance sat on the opposite end of Shiro, resting his head on his arms on the mattress. His longer torso did not look comfortable being hunched over for so long. 

Lance’s eyes caught his own, and Shiro sighed deeply, gripping more tightly onto Keith’s hand. Lance arched an eyebrow, but turned his head away.

The boy had been eerily quiet as of late, only speaking or uttering some sort of sound when provoked. He remained civil and polite enough, Shiro having seen him take over Hunk’s dish duty the night before with a simple gesture, telling Hunk he’d take care of it. But otherwise, the kid had been silent. 

And that insincere smile had remained on his face since the fight. There was always the small smile tugging at his lips, but it was always sad. Shiro could see it hurt to try and keep up the mask. So why was he doing it? 

Shiro was about to say something, anything, when the door opened with a _swoosh_ , Hunk literally rolling in with a table of various foods. It was mostly a large pot of what looked like a brown-food-goo-stew with mixed…. Roots from various planets, as well as a mixed salad dish. Shiro could also smell the attempted banana muffin recipe Hunk had been trying to perfect lately, noticing the red shaped hockey pucks on the opposite side of the table. The faux muffins must have been Hunk approved if he was offering them as a food choice. 

Coran followed shortly behind, holding a large platter full of bowls, spoons, and glasses full of water with a single hand. Shiro was shocked. The moustached man was a bearer of many surprises, his tremendous strength and balance apparently being one of them. 

Hunk filled every bowl with his stew and handed them to his friends. Shiro asked to taste the muffins, saying he was excited to try the new creation, and Hunk seemed to pleased by the genuine interest. 

“So, how’s he doing today?” Hunk asked, sitting down beside Coran on another medic bed just behind Lance.

Pidge openly sighed, eyes running through a diagnostic report on her computer. 

“About the same as yesterday.” She exclaimed. “His wounds are slowly healing but at this rate, it looks like we’ll be without a Red Paladin for a while.”

No one knew exactly how long that meant.

“At least he’s not getting any worse. I think that’s all we need to keep thinking right about now.” Shiro announced, his tone usual, deep, and commanding. He could see the confused looks from everyone. He knew he looked like shit, like a piece of trash that that been run over again and again, How he managed to sound close to normal was even a surprise to him. 

Lance hummed in acknowledgment, and the group fell back into silence, slow slurps of food goo filling the room.

Shiro never touched his. He was too entranced by Keith’s eerie stillness. He just looked too pale, too young to be here, doing all of this. Living in space, fighting a war, defending the Universe, saving Shiro’s life. 

He looked too much like his Mo-

Shiro pulled back, startling everyone with the movement.

“You know, I haven’t seen him this still since I first met him.” Shiro smiled sadly, stomach churning at the passing memory. 

Hunk’s elbows fell onto his knees, inching closer to Shiro in interest. He was on his second bowl of food goo. 

“You’ve been friends for a long time, haven’t you, Shiro? I remember seeing you at the Entrance ceremonies for us first years. You were in the audience and afterwards, you left with Keith. I thought you were so cool, you were like a living legend there.” Hunk turned excitedly to his friend, pointing his used spoon towards his direction. “Remember that, Lance? You wanted to know so badly who the black haired kid was that left with _The Takashi Shirogane_. You even gave up some of your lunch money to try and find out.”

Lance only hummed again, eyes downcast when everyone’s eyes turned to him. Shiro noticed how his nails were embedded into his this skin along his forearm, eyebrows strung together deep in thought. 

Shiro decided to take away some of the unneeded attention. “Yeah, since I was thirteen, actually.” He responded, answering Hunk’s earlier question.

“Really? Only thirteen? I thought it was longer than that.” Pidge said. “I remember you mentioning him at dinner when you used to come over. At first, Matt was under the impression he was your cousin.” She snorted, spooning up some of her own food goo over her opened laptop. 

Shiro’s stuck out his tongue while he gave a disgusted look.

“He did live with my Uncle for a while, but we’re in no way cousins. That’s…. somewhat appalling.” Shiro brushed the idea away, a shiver trickling down his spine as an afterthought. 

Coran looked around the somber bunch, tweaking his moustache. “Well, my boy. How did you two meet? You brought it up for a reason, and now I must know! If not, I’ll use the mind melders on you.” He teased with a wink. Allura perched up, sitting straight and glancing at Shiro.

Shiro was surprised to see how she met his eyes for the first time in days. “I too am interested, Shiro. If you feel like you can share it wish us, that is. I understand it may be a bit personal, but I think a story would cheer us all up.”

“Yeah, as much as I like watching Keith not move to make sure he’s still alive, the beeping is getting to my head.” Pidge complained, her eyes hidden behind the shining light against her glasses." 

“There really isn’t much to say. I found him kind of like this, washed up on the shore when I was thirteen. He was unconscious. I freaked, emailed my Dad who was with my Uncle, and we helped him. Not much to it.” 

Shiro turned back to Keith’s softened features. Shiro felt his lip twitched, knowing he’d probably just told the biggest lie of his life. Right after saving Matt’s from the arena by ‘hurting him’.

There was so much more to the story. 

But it wasn’t his to share.

***---***----***

 

It was a week into summer holidays, and Shiro was already bored out of his gourd. Most of his friends were away at various camps or on vacation down south or in Hawaii. His Dad promised that one year they’d travel like his friends. He just needed to save up first. The housing bills were hard enough to pay from being a single parent, and Shiro felt guilty asking for anything extra that was just a want rather than a need. 

He also wasn’t legally old enough to get a job, since he had been secretly wanting a new pair of soccer shoes for the upcoming season and hoped to save up to buy them himself. This led thirteen year old Shiro to where he was now, on a bench along the harbor wall near his house. The ocean breeze cooled the summer heat, so Shiro made sure to put on extra sunscreen. The cold breeze was a trickster, making your skin burn without even realizing it, so extra sunscreen was Shiro’s motto. 

(In all honesty, he’d already spent the better part of two days stuck inside due to heat stroke because of this. He’d since learned from his mistakes and did not wish to repeat the experience).

He’d taken his Dad’s tablet for the day after asking, and was searching various websites for odd jobs he could do around town. He thought about writing an ad to the local newspaper, offering to help the elderly mow their lawns or something like that. But he was otherwise at a loss.

Everything seemingly required a social security number, a graduate degree, and six years experience in any of the given fields. Including serving. Or cooking at a fast food restaurant. Shiro bit his lip, knowing how expensive the housing market was now a days. 

How was anyone supposed to get a job with requirements like these? It seemed like he’d have to start his work experience now if he actually wanted a stable profession when he was older- which led to the next obvious problem. 

He was legally too young! How was he supposed to get by or get ahead?! He vaguely remembered his Dad telling him about his summer when he was thirteen. It was spent fly fishing in Southern Illinois with his friends. And where was Shiro at the ripe old of thirteen? Fearing the impending doom of a stock and housing market crash. How was this fair?

He groaned loudly, startling a woman who was pushing a baby carrier. She was able to catch herself and the baby, but the look she gave to Shiro would have military men running away with tails between their legs. He sheepishly apologized for the outburst, and she walked away murmuring some not very nice words, leaving Shiro once again in the depressing world of his own thoughts. 

During this mid-life, preteen crisis, Shiro saw something strange bobble in the water, closing in on the shore. Shiro blinked at it in question, but passed it off as the local otter chasing the sea lions again. It happened daily. He clicked on an ad featuring something about ‘ _water sports’ and_ ‘ _M/m’_ …. whatever that meant. But the something bobbled again, and the waves pushed the thing onto the small shore.

The thing was bigger than Shiro had first realized, and it seemed to be wrapped up in a large, wet sack. Shiro jumped up, startled at this size. He looked around, noticing how completely and utterly alone he was. Curse the small outskirt where he lived. No one was ever around! 

With startled features, Shiro dropped the tablet onto the bench and ran towards the thing only mere feet away. When he reached the sad looking pile, the cold waves playing with the edges of his sandals, Shiro realized it wasn’t a burgundy sack. It was a hoodie.

And the hoodie was covering a body, slightly bruised and bare little legs coming out from the bottom which hovered around its lower thighs.

Shiro made way to touch the shoulder, to turn the thing over to make sure they weren’t dead. He did as much and the body swayed under his touch. He jumped up with a loud shriek, hands up wildly in the air. 

But it stayed asleep and silent from its position straight on its side, mouth parted slightly. Its chin and part of its lip were still attached to the sandy shore. 

The thing was so small, just a kid. They couldn’t possibly be older than little Gregory down the street, the 7 year old Shiro sometimes babysat.

Shiro gulped, realizing he may be too young to handle a situation like this, the fate of the stock markets on his hands aside.

Shiro felt a strong splash of water hit his knees, looking up from his hunched position. He checked the sun, noticing it was straight above his head. It was noon, meaning it was time for high tide. The water played with the kids jet black hair, strands tugging and dancing in the gradually increasing water. The kid looked serene, until the water moved high enough to rush into his(?) mouth, some sand moving inside and catching on his tongue. If the kid was awake, Shiro was sure he’d scream in disgust.

Since Shiro was the only conscious member on this beach, he screamed for the kid.

He quickly pushed his hands underneath his armpits, struggling as he pulled the kid up shore. He fell a few times, the wet sand collapsing underneath his sandals. Soon enough he was practically back at the bench and far enough away that the high tide wouldn’t hit them even if it tried. Shiro stuck out his tongue at the ocean, feeling as though he’d won this particular battle against nature. 

He rested the kid on their back, moving the wet strands out of his face. He was pale, and Shiro couldn’t tell is he was breathing.

Shit. Breathing. That was a thing living people do. Was the kid alive? Shit. Shit. Shit. 

A dozen layers of turd. Shit.

Shiro’s hands shook as he checked the kid over, trying to remember what he learned during his First Aid course at the beginning of the school year. 

Shiro took a deep breath, running his hands over the huge hoodie. He tugged at rim, lifting it until he brushed past the kid’s thin hip bone, noticing a yellowish bruise, running from the small waist right around the front of his stomach. It looked suspiciously like handprints. 

Shiro gasped, pulling the sweater back down to its original place. He couldn’t be sure if there was a broken rib or internal bleeding, so removing the hoodie all together might make matters worse. He reached what he assumed to be the chest area and pressed the wet material flat, laying his ear against the smaller chest. 

_Badump…… Badump…….. Badump…...._

Shiro sighed loudly in relief at the faint heartbeat, even if he didn’t feel their chest expand upward or inward. So, moving his ear up towards the kid’s mouth, he checked if the kid was breathing. 

He wasn’t. But given the heartbeat and colour of his skin, it hadn’t been too long yet. He still had some colour there. He skin wasn’t as white looking as his Mom’s had been inside her cof- 

Taking in a deep breath, Shiro straightened upwards, remembering how the instructor tipped the chin upward to open up the air valves. Shiro’s heart beat loudly against his own chest, the situation becoming more and more terrifying. 

He began his compressions at the upper sternum, just like his instructor had said. He tried to remember how many he had to do. He knew it was 3:1 for babies, and 30:2 for adults, but couldn’t remember what it was for kids. He was in despair knowing that it was his own age group he’d forgotten about! How much of a failure was he!

Taking a deep sigh, Shiro tried to calm himself. He went with his instinct and stopped at 15. He opened up the kids mouth, noticing the sand still splattered around his lips and chubby cheekbones. Shiro blew in twice, returning to his compressions.

After the fourth time, Shiro wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this for. It was tiring, and nothing seemed to be happening. Was he going hard enough? Bones were supposed to break, right? The ribcage and sternum fractures were things that happened during CPR, right?! Why didn’t anything feel like it was breaking?!?!?!!

Right after his fifth blow, Shiro placed his hands back on the chest, was about to push even harder when the boy’s eyes flew open, coughing up a burst of ocean water. He gasped, a little hand reaching for his chest, pulling at the red material of his too big hoodie.

Shiro fell back on his knees, breathing in.

Jesus. That was a rush. Shiro wheezed out a laugh, taking a good look at the boy.

Astonishing purple (Purple?! Shiro double checked: Yes, purple. How was that even possible?!) gazed up in a trance, hazily looking at Shiro. He was obviously confused about his given situation.

The kid breathed in, weakly stuttering, “Are- are you an angel?”

Shiro blinked quickly when he felt heat rise to his cheeks. He waved his hands in front of his face at an intense speed.

“No, no! I’m just a kid. My name is Takashi Shirogane, I go to Mount Kitsal Middle School, the one right off Smith street? You were washed up on the shore but I helped and-“ a small, wet, sandy hand slapped itself against Shiro’s mouth.

“Shut it. I have a headache.” The kid, boy, definitely boy, spoke weakly with a groan. He tried to sit up, placing a hand on his head. “Ugh, I don’t feel so good.” He immediately curled into himself, eyes squeezing shut. Shiro moved away just in time when he turned his head and promptly threw up more water on the beach. 

Shiro reached for his own water bottle just beneath the bench, opening up the lid and offering it to the more than likely dehydrated individual.

Daunting eyes just stared at him, as though he wasn’t sure he could trust Shiro or his water bottle. 

“Come on,” Shiro tried to reassure, shaking the piece of plastic. “I just saved your life. There’s no point in reviving you just to kill you with some toxic water. Just take some.” He shook it again, and the boys eyes began to glare.

“Come on, don’t worry about-“ Shiro reached forward, pushing the water bottle into the kids chest. The kid hadn’t expected this and immediately lashed out. He screeched, ripping his nails into Shiro’s chest and shoving him away with a surprising amount of strength.

Shiro fell onto his ass, watching the boy huddle closer to the bench, making himself as small as possible.

“Don’t. Touch me.” He breathed, violet eyes wide and daring.

Shiro opened his palms in reassurance, staying far away from the boy.

“Okay. I won’t touch you. Promise. But please have some water?” He tried to offer again. Shiro was nothing if not devoted. Placing the water onto the sand, he rolled it towards the scared kid. He looked at the bottle now at his feet, back up to Shiro, back to the bottle, back to Shiro, and- he jumped for it, opening the lid and chugging it. 

Shiro watched in astonishment while he stayed on his butt, knowing the water would probably just come back up at the pace he was drinking it at.

The kid tore the bottle away from his lips with a gasp. He quickly placed the cap back on before throwing it at Shiro. He just barely managed to catch it before it slammed into his face.

Now somewhat satisfied, he kid returned to his former glare.

“Why’d you save me?” He spoke up after a few tense moments. 

Shiro grimaced, simply shrugging his shoulders and now wondering why he did so himself. The pay off so hadn’t been so kind.

“Because… because you were lying there, and you were still alive. I had to try…” Maybe this wasn’t such a good plan after all.

“I could have been evil.” The kid tried to argue, eyes beginning to fall.

“But you’re just a kid.” 

“I’m not just a kid. I’m old. I’m almost 11!” 

Shiro’s eyes shot open. “No way, you look like a 7 year old! There’s no way you’re 10!” He tried to protest.. Shiro, the ever wise preteen in all of his glory, the one all the adults loved to gush about, was currently picking a verbal fight with a drowned kid about his own age.

 _Good work, Takashi._ He thought miserably.

“Boys grow slower than girls. And I’m just small for my age.” He mumbled as he turned away, eyes closing from where he perched himself up against the bench. His knees were tucked under himself, and Shiro noticed the small blue swimming shorts underneath the hoodie. And due to the heat of the sun, the kids long hair was quickly beginning to dry in all directions, looking somewhat like a bird’s nest. 

Shiro sighed, making his way onto his feet and towards the bench. The kid’s eyes shot open, following Shiro’s footsteps like a scared cat being trapped by animal control.

Shiro gave his best smile, sitting on the bench and reaching for the tablet, opening up his Dad’s email app.

The kid gave a confused look. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. 

“Emailing my Dad. I don’t have a phone and he’s at work. But I need help if we have to get you to a hospital.” 

The kid’s eyes shot even further open, this time from obvious fear. He shot his arm out, grabbing onto Shiro’s leg. 

“No! I can’t go to the hospital! They’ll find me! I can’t go back! Don’t take me back!” He screamed. 

Shiro sent the email to his Dad asking for help after giving him his location. Not understanding this current predicament, he only hoped his Dad would respond quickly.

“We have to bring you to the hospital.” Shiro tried to argue, putting the tablet down. “I just gave you CPR from almost drowning in the ocean. Someone has to check you over.”

“I’m fine.” The kid continued, persistent and stubborn. Shiro knew the kid was holding back a cough, if only to prove Shiro wrong about how perfectly ‘fine’ he was. “You can’t bring me there.”

Shiro sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with this kid. But he could also see the tiredness behind his intense eyes. The kid would fall asleep soon. Maybe they could sneak him to the hospital then?

Shiro nodded. “Fine, I wont take you to the hospital right now.” 

“Promise?” The kid dared.

Shiro nodded his head. “I promise.” He said earnestly.

The kid seemed contented by this fact, falling back into his previous position. Head in his arms against the bench, he sighed peacefully. The breeze of the ocean and smell of salt and seaweed made its way towards Shiro. They both fell into a peaceful quiet. 

The tablet dinged, notifying Shiro of a new email. Quickly reopening it, he noticed it was his Dad, telling him to wait where he was.

He had been showing his Uncle around his office that day, since his Uncle was visiting for the first time in a few years. His Dad told him they were going to go on an early lunch break, and would both be there shortly. Shiro sighed, closing the app after responding with a quick ‘ _Okay. See you soon.”_  

Shiro turned again to the boy, watching the long wisps of his hair play with the wind, breathing heavily past the sand still stuck to his lips.

Wasn’t that annoying? The feeling of sand stuck to his body? Shiro couldn’t ever handle it, how could he? And wasn’t he hot in the hoodie? Shiro was in his swimming trunks and a black tank top and he was still sweating up a storm, how was- oh wait a minute, the hoodie was still wet…. Wasn’t the kid cold, then? Or at the very least uncomfortable? How he remained lying half on a bench with his wet tuckus and legs in the sand completely at ease, Shiro would never understand. 

With another glance to the ocean and watching the boats sway in the summer sun, Shiro automatically wondered and couldn’t help but ask, “What were you doing out there, anyways?” 

The boy’s mouth twitched. It took a while, and Shiro wondered if the kid had actually fallen asleep when he finally heard the whispered words, “I was making his wish come true.”

Shiro didn’t ask anymore questions after that.


	2. Or was it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the chapter I'm a little worried about. I dont think I portrayed the situation as well as I could have, but after quite a few rewritings, this seemed the best I could do... so while I may be unhappy with how the ending scene came out, I do hope that someone of you enjoy it. Its hard to write about in depth... o.0 EITHER WAY!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and see you next time with my faves, lil Shiro and bb Keith :)

It was a full week after the battle when Keith’s body began to react to his surrounding. He still wasn’t awake, nor did it seem like he was close. But he was still healing from his impressive wounds, and when Shiro spoke to him and held his hand, Keith would tighten his grip just a tidge. The top corner of his mouth would twitch when Hunk was telling a story. His pinky toe furled and unfurled without prompt when Pidge was doing his daily muscle examination.

Shiro and everyone else counted these as a win. 

However, while Keith seemed to be slowly improving, Shiro noticed how Lance seemed to be deteriorating. He wasn’t speaking as much, wasn’t teasing anyone, he didn’t flirt with the cute local alien girls at the supermarket where they stopped for supplies. Even Shiro could admit they were cute, so he found himself stunned by Lance’s passive behaviour.

It was late a night in the Castle, or at least during the time when most of the lights were dimmed for the circadian rhythms to function normally. The dark was luckily needed for both Humans and Alteans to sleep accurately in the artificial environment. Pidge was probably awake somewhere, though, still working on plans to improve the healing pods in the aspect that Keith could one day use it without the fear of death. She’d have to make a blue print from only supplies they had on the ship, and base it around Hunk’s and Coran’s level of engineering experience. Even so, Shiro had complete faith in the little genius.

The Black Paladin found himself drawn towards the training deck, which was Keith’s second home when he was awake. Shiro needed to lose some of his current energy, feeling the unnatural buzz underneath his veins. It kept him awake, his memories and thoughts the only thing to keep him company. With a heaving sigh, Shiro knew tonight wasn’t going to be for sleep anyways, the nightmares too close at bay. 

Even if Shiro desperately wanted some rest, he soon left the confines of Keith’s room and wandered the Castle.

He entered the arena starting the fight sequence almost immediately, not giving a second thought of how he was still in his sleepwear. 

Quickly enough, he no longer had to think and lost himself to the battle. Three droids turned into four and then into five. Sweat dripped down his back, drenching his black shirt and leaving it sticky against his skin. 

As he threw his purple arm at a bot, feeling it pierce through the metal, Shiro remembered the last time he was here, and how it had been with Keith.

“ _Gotta keep up, Old Man. Can’t let me beat all your high scores now.”_ _The younger man teased after kicking down one of the droids. It was just about to slam into Shiro when he reached it’s back, slicing right through the waist with his Blade from the Mamora. The score was 8-6, Keith slowly making his way up to Shiro in points. He’d also recently gotten close to one of Shiro’s general high scores, and hadn’t stopped bragging about since to the Black Paladin_  

_“I’m only two and a half years older, Keith. I’m not an old man. And I’d watch that mouth if I were you. Can’t be getting to cocky when your still two points behind me.” A droid was coming up behind Keith, about to draw its sword on the young man who continued to stare at Shiro with the tired but caring gaze. Shiro shot past Keith, startling the Red Paladin as he slammed into the droid, throwing the bot over his shoulder and throwing it onto the ground. The bot’s neck bent in an inaccurate way, and it shot off, another point going to Shiro. Shiro stood back on his haunches and pretended to brush dirt off his knees. “Three points.” He smiled with a cocky grin._

_Keith’s mouth stayed open in shock. He seemed a little miffed that his senses betrayed him. Shiro could tell how surprised he was that he didn’t notice the bot until afterwards. Shiro patted him on the shoulder in sympathy. “You’ll beat me next round, I’m sure.”_

_Keith bit at his lip and looked away. “You said that last time,” he mumbled in disappointment._

_After sharing a mutual laugh at the friendly competition, the two continued training long into the night, Shiro beating him by one measly point._

_“It’s all about the art of surprise.” Shiro gloated as though he’d won by 100 and not 1..._

_Keith rolled his eyes and looked towards Shiro as they walked away from the arena, side by side with their sweat-drenched, white towels hanging over their naked shoulders._

_“The art of surprise, huh?” He grinned. Shiro arched an eyebrow when Keith turned to him, throwing his arms suddenly around Shiro’s shoulders and throwing his weight into his torso. They fell to the ground, Keith’s lithe legs and hips placed teasingly over Shiro’s waist. Keith fell forward, both of his hands encircling Shiro’s cheeks and jaw, keeping him in place as he pressed his lips down against Shiro’s. The older man made a small noise against chapped lips, one he knew drove Keith crazy._

_The kiss was more gentle then Shiro had first anticipated, especially given Keith’s track record for intense, desperate, and needy kisses. Keith’s tongue slowly made his way into Shiro’s mouth, kind and and slow and sweet. Shiro smiled into the kiss, moving his hands to splay one across Keith’s back and drag the other into his hair, massaging the scalp. Keith backed up and seemingly purred, looking at Shiro with a sultry expression._

_“Like that?” He asked, voice lewd and daring._

_Shiro laughed, was about to respond when Keith grabbed the towel around his neck, wringing it forward so Shiro was forcefully pulled upward. Keith met him halfway. Gentle once again, and Shiro fell back into their rhythm, sensually dragging a Galran finger over the bare ridges of Keith’s spine. He shivered openly at the touch._

_And then in pure Kogane fashion, he shoved Shiro back and let go of the towel, Shiro’s head accidently slamming into the ground. He groaned, looking up to see Keith making a break for the door, leaving Shiro in a confused daze._

_“Last one to make it to my room has to sleep on the outside!” He mischievously called while he sprinted away from the premises._

_“Why you little!” Shiro jumped up, racing behind Keith. Shiro wasn’t proud to admit that he’d won when they both knew Keith was the faster of the two. He pretended to gloat about his win while Keith pretended to pout. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Keith liked sleeping on the outside._

_Being along the wall made Shiro feel safe, too, away from his nightmares experienced while alone with the Galra._

_In contrast, Keith liked to be on the edge, watching the door for any possible sign of danger while simultaneously remaining in the sturdy hold of Shiro’s arms._

_Shiro would always grab Keith from behind just before he fell asleep, pulling Keith’s slim back against Shiro’s chest. Shiro’s large hands always landed across Keith’s cold, bare stomach, laughing when Keith complained at the frozen touch. They’d never admit it out loud, but it was a perfect set up._

_They were like two pieces of a puzzle, two working parts of the same whole; they just fit together._

Fighting in the arena, Shiro realized how utterly alone he felt. Just like his time as Champion, Shiro was back to being alone, fighting bots and earning each point on his own. Only for himself. There was no playful competition, and Shiro felt the absence Keith left behind like a void.

Shiro also realized, after sensing a bot sneaking up on him, how on edge he was. It truly was like he’d fallen back into the arena, fighting for his life. Any little knick could take him down, kill him. And Shiro was nothing if not a survivor. He had to notice every movement. He had to win. He had to live. 

He noticed a colour of movement just beside his shoulder. Turning around, Shiro screamed every last bit of his pent up energy he had left remaining inside. Here, here he could openly release his pain, let his emotions be shown. He didn’t have to hide here. He didn’t have to feel numb. 

He slammed the glowing purple of his arm straight through the chest of a droid, stopping it mid hit. He swung his arm around, slamming the bot into another that was coming up right behind him. Both of machines flew towards the wall, shutting down at impact. Shiro breathed, beating the level.

He was halfway through commanding the arena to start level 7 when the doors opened with a _swoosh._

Shiro turned in confusion, noticing Lance standing at the doorway. He stood tall in his Paladin uniform, his bayard transformed and positioned at his side. He looked surprised to see Shiro there.

Shiro turned fully towards his friend with his usual smile falling back into place. The mask fell back into place.

“What are you still doing awake, Lance? It’s-“ Shiro didn’t actually know the time- “… Late. You should be asleep.” 

Lance’s shoulders sheepishly fell forward, gaze drifting towards the ground. He waved his hand, gesturing that it was nothing. He offered Shiro a sad smile when he made way to leave the arena.

Shiro shot an arm out. “Lance wait!”

The Blue Paladin stilled.

“Want to train with me? I could use a partner.”

***---***----***

Shiro’s Dad and his Uncle Ryou had arrived only twenty minutes later, the stupid sun causing Shiro’s shoulders and they kids pale legs to burn.

The twin brothers stood where shoreline met grass, looking at the strange scene. The kid was asleep, half on the bench and half on the ground, while Shiro calmly sat beside him, still looking at ads for work online. 

Shiro’s Dad, Hiroshi, shrugged at his brother’s arched eyebrow. The two ex-militant men walked down, calling out Shiro’s name.

“Takashi, what happened?” Hiroshi asked, one scarred hand placing itself on his son’s shoulder when he reached the bench. Ryou went to the other side, crouching down on his long legs and began examining the sleeping child.

Shiro looked up towards his Dad, and explained. The kid washed up on shore, he performed CPR, but didn’t do it right since he didn’t break the kid’s ribs or sternum (which was weird, right? Shiro decided he must be an alien if he was perceptibly fine after that), the kid woke up, left out the part about calling him an angel, and admitted that he viciously resented the idea of going to a hospital. 

Hiroshi nodded, patting Shiro’s back. “You did the right thing, Champ. I have my car just up in the parking lot. We can bring him to the hospital now, just for a double check.” Shiro nodded in agreement, knowing he’d go along with any plan his father suggested. 

“Hiroshi,” Uncle Ryou caught his Dad’s attention, his hand against the kids temple after brushing away the last bits of dried sand. The older man looked near desperate, biting at his lip when he looked his brother in the eye. Ryou shook his head, starting to move the kid away from his position.

Hiroshi gasped, stepping forward to stop him. “Ryou, stop. He could be hurt-“

“It’s him, ‘Shi. It’s him.” Ryou practically whispered.

From his spot beside his son, Hiroshi squinted his eyes, trying to get a closer look at the boy. Hiroshi stilled, and Shiro was going to complain about his Dad’s tightening grip on his shoulder, but didn’t want to ruin the moment. The men seemed to be having one of those silent conversation, something Shiro, a single child and definitely not a twin, would never quite understand.

Ryou bundled the child up in his arms, the kid looking even smaller in Ryou’s Dorito sized shape. All chest and arm muscle on top of chicken legs.

Hiroshi moved to stand beside his brother, gently overlooking the kid’s features. He pressed two gentle fingers against the boy’s neck, checking his vitals.

They looked at each other and nodded.

Together, the twins were a power-house. They both easily towered at 6’3, and had a full head of chestnut coloured hair, which his Dad always joked about. ‘ _Seeing what I’ve seen, Champ, I’m surprised my hair isn’t white or going bald_.' 

They both held the same shape. Large arms and torso on top of a leaner leg. Shiro could admit that they looked almost identical to someone new, the only identifying mark being the scar on Ryou’s eyebrow from his time in the military, and Hiroshi’s small birthmark on his left cheek and jaw. Of course, after spending time with the twins, differences became obvious, like Ryou’s thicker southern accent and deeper voice, and Hiroshi’s kinder, brown eyes and darker hair colour. Their personalities, too, were as opposite as the sun and the moon. His Dad said it’s why they worked well together.

Hiroshi could be heard whispering to Ryou, trying in vain to keep Shiro away from the conversation but ultimately failing. He was just too loud. “We have to get him to the hospital, Ryou, he could be hurt. Shiro performed CPR, we need to know for sure that nothing is broken-“

“Then we check him. You were a paramedic before you were deployed, Hiroshi. You can do it-“

“His family. They have to be worried-“ 

“His ‘family’? We _know_ what happened, Hiroshi, anyone now wouldn’t be his family-“

“Then the people who look after him, they have to be worried-“ 

“So worried that he was found nearly drowned on a beach?” Ryou furiously whispered, tone harsh. Shiro backed up, holding his father’s tablet to his chest. He didn’t like it when they got mad, especially Ryou. Ryou could become worrisome when angered. Violently worrisome.

“Hiroshi, he’s alive. And right now? He’s hurt. We have to help him. I promised her before she-“ 

“Fine.” Shiro’s Dad cut him off, scratching at the stubble along his chin. For as manly stereotyped as they were, they couldn’t grow facial hair to save their life.

“Fine.” He breathed in deeply. Turning back towards Shiro, he placed the perfectly kept mask back on, the façade rising back up with absolutely no worry shown for the most evident problem. Shiro took in his father’s strength with pride.

“Come on, Shiro. We’re going back home. I’ll call work and tell them there was an emergency.”

“What about the hospital?” Shiro couldn’t help but ask. Ryou breathed harshly at the idea, his anger obvious. Hiroshi kept himself neutral, smiling.

“Don’t worry about that, Champ. He’s okay. We’ll take care of it from here on.”

*********

They sat together in the middle of the battle arena, the ceiling fan on full blast to aid with their sweat soaked bodies. The heated room began to cool. But something was still off. Other than the occasional battle cry or letting Shiro know there was a bot right behind him, Lance had stayed unnervingly silent.

Shiro’s concern was now greater than his previous intention of letting Lance deal with his problems on his own.

The Blue Paladin in question was sprawled out on his back, limbs star fished and stretched out in all angles. His eyes were closed while he tried to catch his breath, sweat droplets falling like tears down his face. 

Shiro decided against Lance’s wishes and went straight for interrogation. 

“You know, I had a roommate once, back at the Garrison,” Shiro began, eyes downcast on his Galran arm. He felt Lance’s eyes slowly sway towards him, but otherwise he remained quiet.

“He was one of the bubbliest, happiest people I’d ever met. Which is saying a lot, because you should have met my Mother.” Shiro laughed. “He’d tell jokes to everyone, and brighten everyone’s days just by walking in a room. He always seemed to be so at ease, so positive. He was the shoulder to lean on when people needed it.”

“Light of the center of the room type of deal?” Lance asked, his pointer finger playing with some sort of speck on the ground.

“Yeah. But there were certain times when stress would get to be too much. He felt that his grades were too important and he’d put the pressure of the world on his shoulders. This stress would last upwards to a month, sometimes even more but he’d always try and hide it. And when I got to close, he’d shut me out. He’d just say he was feeling blue, because that was the best way to explain it. He didn’t understand, and tried to work against himself. Sometimes it helped him. You know, going out, studying with friends, putting on a brave face and all, and he’d eventually come back to the room in a better mood.” Shiro smiled, feeling it slip a bit when he quieted and Lance offered a gentle look.

“But there were other times, when something really small and trivial happened; something that wouldn’t usually matter made everything so much worse. Like one day, Iverson told Ma- m-my roommate to buck up and face his problems like a man, like his father. Iverson said this everyday since we started, but this one time made all the difference. He just went silent and essentially shut down for the whole day. He still smiled and spoke when needed, but otherwise he didn’t talk and walked with his head down.” Shiro’s eyes still looked towards the ground, trying to figure out what the best way to word this was. Lance seemed interested, though, so Shiro tried to tell what he felt to be someone else’s story to the best of his ability. 

“When I got home later that night, he was already in bed and had been for the entire day. He just couldn’t find it in himself to leave. And later when I asked, he told me that what Iverson said made him start thinking about all the irresponsibility’s in his life. It brought back all the mistakes and stupid things he’d done up until that point. He was like you, sensitive and very aware of how he affected others. So when he accidently said something that wouldn’t even be bad, but the other person saw as a mean, it’d throw him for a loop and he always said how bad it made him felt, because he hadn’t previously seen the other person’s point of view. Even if the situation ended well and on good terms, which it always did, he’d dwell. He said he’d feel guilt, embarrassed and ashamed to the point where he shut down. He couldn’t stop the thoughts from happening. The worry and guilt usually came from the stress of school, everything falling about at once. And his episodes where ‘he felt blue’ could last upwards to a week or more. And we figured out that me talking and asking questions didn’t always help, but just by staying with him and telling him that he was wanted and cared for worked.”

“During those days,” Shiro saw Lance begin to ask, his mouth opening and closing before getting out his question, “Could he ever force himself out of bed? Or would he just shut down, or cry?” 

Shiro thought over the question with a finger against his chin. “…. It depends. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. The mind is a strange thing, Lance.” 

“I don’t understand what’s happening in my head, Shiro.” Lance finally confessed, and Shiro wanted to jump up and hug him right there. But Shiro held back. They weren’t finished yet, and he knew Lance needed to get this out. 

“I’m so worried about Keith, and I just keep remembering what happened. I saw how he looked, I helped you bring him to Red, remember that?”

Shiro had no memory of this event, had thought he was the only one around to force Keith away.

“You told me to make sure he got to the Castle safe. That was my job. We flew towards it together, but then he saw you, and he shot down before I could stop him. I tried, Shiro. I even landed right beside him, you have to believe me.”

Shiro stayed confused. He believed Lance, and believed that this was in no way Lance’s fault. Lance didn’t notice Shiro’s moment of hesitation, and continued on his rant. Once a dam breaks, floods occur. And Shiro figured Lance wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, having too many pent up emotions to verbally acknowledge now that he started.

“But there were so many Galra, and you were overworked, and Keith camouflaged into the land, Shiro He motherfucking camouflaged. A-and you know I’m better at long range fighting than short range, but I keep thinking of this knowing I’m just making excuses for myself to feel better.” Lance sat up, twisting a half torso and reaching for Shiro. His eyes were large and begging. 

“I _know_ I fucked up, Shiro. I let Keith get hurt. I let you and him down. And now? I just have this sinking feeling that I can’t escape from, and I keep thinking about my family, my friends, how much I miss them, and then I keep remembering stupid things I said before I left, and how I would change them if I could. But I can’t change anything, and the second hand embarrassment from the memories are killing me.”

Lance sighed loudly, clasping a hand against his eyes and grimacing. Shiro could see how Lance forced down a sob, kept it away momentarily.

“But I don’t want to say this out loud, because even though I’m upset, Keith has it so much worse, Pidge has it so much worse, _you_ have it so much worse. Everyone is dealing with the war in there own ways. And here I am, just not! Here I am, scavenging around looking for attention because I’m not getting any. I know I’m just making everything up, thinking about everything to make myself worse just to get a little bit of sympathy. Right? It’s pathetic. It’s an act. I know it. I’m not genuine enough for this to be real.”

Lance threw his hands out in exasperation, looking Shiro in the eyes again. “And I didn’t want to admit any of this. I didn’t wanna say how I feel, because I can’t be a burden to my teammates, I can’t let them worry about me when Keith needs it more.”

Shiro reached over to Lance, grabbing the boy’s arm and lifting him into a hug. Lance immediately fell into the embrace, relaxing while he cried into Shiro’s black nightshirt.

“I’m pathetic and weak, and I sometimes think that the team would be better off without me, if all I ever do is complain about myself or-“

“Lance,” Shiro tried, feeling himself well up, now understanding a bit more of Lance’s misunderstood pain. He reached for Lance’s hand, holding onto it tightly.

“I need you to know, because I’m scared of what you’re saying right now, that roommate’s head go so bad, thinking the exact way you did, that he almost tried to end it.” Lance stilled, grip tightening against Shiro’s arm.

“He thought the world would be better off without him, because he didn’t see what we saw. He didn’t notice how he lit up a room when he walked in. He didn’t realize the amount of smiles he made from his jokes. He didn’t see how many friends he had who cared for him.”

Lance tried to pull his hand away, push away from Shiro and get away from his words. They just felt insincere.

“No, Lance you need to listen. My friend didn’t try, but he told his parents, and apparently depression was genetic throughout his family.” Lance stopped pulling at the word, falling limp back on the floor.

“His family had never discussed it enough for him to know the symptoms. And maybe depression doesn’t run in your family, Lance, but how you feel? It’s valid, because your mind is working against you. It’s making up lies, because I know you. You’re not someone to make this all up for attention. There are people who are like that, and I know you aren’t one of them.” 

Lance left out a shaky breath, and Shiro tightened his hold. “You’re not seeing what we’re seeing. You don’t see how happy it makes me to see you get better at shooting every day, seeing a true piece of confidence begin to arise. I saw how hard you worked to try and save Keith. You held me back when I tried resuscitating him. And I know you were there when I wasn’t, talking to Pidge and Hunk when there fears were becoming too much.”

Lance shrugged, digging his head further down into Shiro’s chest. Shiro could only see the top of his hairline now, the younger man hiding his face in black. “Well yeah, but I do that all the time. It really isn’t a big deal.” His voice said behind the stifled cloth.

Shiro ran a hand down his armoured back. “But it is a big deal, Lance. To them and to me. You’re more important to this team than you realize. And I for one never want to see you go. After everything, maybe we can talk to Pidge or Coran, maybe help diagnose the issue, see if they can make a pill-“

“What, you mean like anti-depressants?!” Lance shot back, pulling Shiro to an arm length away. He asked as though the idea burned his very soul. “I- I don’t need, I don’t have- I’m sure I’m making it out to be a bigger deal than what it is, I don’t deserve-" 

“You deserve happiness, just like everyone else. And if it’s a hormonal or chemical imbalance, then we can help ease it a bit, start solving the issue.”

Lance remained quiet, slight tremors of his body shifting Shiro’s arms. 

“Wh-what if it isn’t a chemical imbalance. What if it’s something different? What if it is just me? Because I’m just too sensitive, from whatever someone or my own head has said? Or some shit like that…” Lance admitted quietly.

“Then we can help with that to. It’s not going to be ease for you at first, I’m sure. But we’re always here, even if you don’t want to talk and just want a hug, okay?”

Lance shrugged, nodding his head. “I still think it’s just from me being an over sensitive whiner.” 

“Sensitivity is not problem, Lance.” Shiro almost chastised, his voice still more calming than saddened. “It’s outstanding, what you can do. You’re able to portray emotions and genuine concern for other people, as well as having the ability to express yourself. It’s harder than you’d think, and I for one think highly of the ability.” Shiro thought it over, realizing the shameful truth to his own words. He’d wish for his life. He couldn’t change himself now. 

“And honestly? I’ve seen some terr- errr, nevermind. I guess, uhm.” Shiro was losing focus, needing to get himself back on track. Lance. He was helping Lance. Not going down his own evil memory lane. That didn’t matter now.

“F-from what I’ve seen, I realized how the entire galaxy has an enormous capacity for savagery and brutality. And as a survivor, I believe the Universe needs a little more empathy and compassion. We need more people like you Lance.” 

Lane smiled a little at this, trying to take in Shiro’s words.

“Like I said, buddy. What you’re head is saying? Those little voices? They aren’t true. You help out more than you think and are loved in more ways than you realize. I know it’ll take more than tonight to make sure you believe me.”

They sat in silence for a few moments more. They moved away out of each other’s grip. They moved over to the far wall, leaning against the cold material. Lance sat wiping at his red rimmed eyes, making sure nothing fell. Shiro took a breath and asked, “Keith getting hurt. That was the trigger for you, wasn’t it?”

Lance looked up towards the ceiling, shame on his face from being caught. “Y-yeah. It was.”

“So had you been feeling down for the few days leading up to it?”

Lance turned his head away, looking around at everything that wasn’t Shiro.

“Yeah, uhm. We were on Kulda getting supplies, and I heard someone say how everyone seemed to be useful on team Voltron, save for the Blue Paladin. They said I must only be here because something happened to the True Blue Paladin. It just reminded me of the Galaxy Garrison, or being at home with my Fath-“ He shook his head. “Or while at the Garrison, not being able to get anywhere until Keith was forcefully kicked out. It- it sucked, knowing my success was from the downfall of another person. And the thoughts started getting to me, how I still wasn’t enough. I guess seeing Keith injured, someone who I tried to help, made me shut down…”

Shiro stayed beside Lance, his human hand now rubbing at his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Lance. Maybe not right now, but one day you’ll look back on this and see what you’ve overcome, and I hope you realize then how brave and strong you were to even overcome it.” 

“So, what? Are you saying people who end it are just weaklings?” Lane tried to joke, realizing immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.

“No.” Shiro shook his head. “They’re just people who didn’t have anyone there to help them. They weren’t fortunate enough with having a family and friends like us.”

“… It’s tragic, huh? That some people never get help, or can’t ever talk about it because of how they’ve been brought up.”

Shiro had more questions at that, wondering if that’s how Lance’s mental health had began to decrease. It seemed more from family, because as much as Lance loved his family, no one was perfect and parents made mistakes. Maybe they tried to force Lance into the same role Shiro had always hoped be could one day play to perfection: don’t show anyone your true emotions. Hide everything, because there are some things out in the world that are more important than yourself. 

And maybe because Lance was Lance, he fell and deteriorated at this concept forced onto him, where as Shiro excelled at the same concept he created for himself.

Shiro smiled, rubbing Lance’s back while he sniffled his last bit of tears.

“Maybe tomorrow morning we can ask Coran, I’m sure they had some similar problems on Altea-“

“No!” Lance jerked forward, arms outstretched and eyes once again begging, reaching for Shiro’s arm and pleading. “Not tomorrow. Not until- Keith.” He frantically spewed, as though that explained everything. 

“Okay.” Shiro agreed calmly. “We won’t talk about anything. I won’t even allude to it until Keith is okay, and you give the go ahead.”

“… Promise?”

“Promise.” Shiro said, connecting his pinkie finger with Lance’s own.

Lance calmed, returning to rest beside Shiro along the wall. Eventually he yawned, resting his head against Shiro’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

Shiro rubbed his back again, soothing Lance down until the Blue Paladin slowly fell asleep. Even if everyone else had also noticed the issue, Shiro was glad it had finally been discussed with at least one member of the group. 

Thinking over everything Lance had said, and Shiro’s current problem of having the Red Paladin out of commission due to coma, he’d wondered when the hell everything went to absolute flying ape shit. How did Shiro ever let things get so out of control?

Kerberos. Kerberos is when everything went to so out of his control. But Shiro still had a job to do, memories to forcefully keep in the backburner of his mind until his job was done. He had to continue walking tall, as though he had everything under control and bore no worries in the world. He had to march forward, move on like a soldier, and act like his Father. He subconsciously straightened his torso at the thought, still rubbing Lance’s sweaty back.

“It’ll be okay. One day, it’ll be okay.” He whispered into the cold artificial air. 

Shiro wasn’t sure quiet if he believed his own words anymore.


	3. Wishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda fluff, kinda sad, kinda angst. This was supposed to come out sooner, but I'm currently working a Mill Shutdown, meaning 12 hour shifts everyday for 2-3 weeks. Dolla dolla bills yo, but I'm friggen tired. Please excuse any grammar mistakes or sentences that dont make sense (or please tell me! I like that!). I can't see straight right now, so ill leave of here saying that I hope you enjoy this chapter of more Inner!Shiro angst. I think the world needs more of it! See you next time! :D

The kid’s name was Keith, if the name on his hoodie’s tag was anything to go by. They changed the wet cloth for one of Shiro’s drier (albeit too big) clothes, putting the hoodie into the washing machine. It was currently hanging outside on the line, and Keith was fast asleep on the couch. He lay underneath the brightly mixed coloured crotched blanket his Mom made for Christmas one year. 

Keith stayed asleep the entire drive back, not even flinching when his shirt was changed.

Hiroshi made Shiro leave when the kid’s torso was shown, and even if the twins blocked his view, Shiro was sure he saw the canvas of painted bruises etched across fair skin.

The other thing Shiro noticed was that the little thing was as ferocious as he was angry. He’d woken up just before dinner, falling from the couch and attacking Hiroshi in fear from where he sat in the old, moth bitten furniture. Hiroshi, obviously startled, dropped the book he was holding and fell from his chair, placing his arms over his head in defense. Keith scratched at his skin, nails more like claws as he tore at the muscle. 

Shiro had just finished turning off the oven when he heard the commotion. Based solely on his Dad’s painful yelp, Shiro dropped the knife he was using to cut into the pan and ran into the living room. He saw an interesting scene: There was Keith, all of 4’0, cornering his 6 foot something tall Father, biting at Hiroshi’s hand. 

Keith was about to try and make a break for the door when Shiro noticed his plan of attack. He jumped in the way, hands outstretched and holding down his position. Keith couldn’t get past him if he tried.

Keith, though, standing in a lunging stance, seemed surprised to see Shiro. His eyebrows darted up near his forehead, and Shiro would have laughed at the expression if he wasn’t trying to by strong and sturdy like a true Shirogane. He pushed his smaller arms out further, breathing in a large exhale and looking Keith steadily in the eye while he spoke.

“We made casserole.”

Keith and Hiroshi simultaneously looked confused. “What?” Keith asked, teeth bared, while his Dad just murmured a small ‘huh?’

Shiro puffed out his chest. “We made casserole. With beef. I wanted something with salmon since Uncle Ryou just came back from up North and brought some back for us, but Dad said-“

“Get out of my way.” Keith tried, his voice low and gravelly. He jumped for Shiro’s outstretched arms and tried shoving his way past. Shiro changed his tactic, pushing back against Keith’s own strength This kid couldn’t just walk over anyone he pleased. No. Shiro’s Dad had shown the kindness of his heart and his home, and this was how Keith was going to repay him? Not in Shiro’s books.

“We didn’t take you to the hospital. And you’re hurt. You’re staying here until you feel better… or at least until you have some food in you.” He fought through a hiss, his arms and torso beginning to tilt sideways from the added weight of Keith channeling his inner monkey upon his arm. He saw his Dad stand up, watching the scene unfold.

Keith stopped the feral animal attitude, looking towards Shiro with his big, doe like eyes. He seemed to weigh his options, was about to argue when his stomach growled. Loudly.

Hiroshi moved from around the fallen chair, making his way towards the kids and holding his bleeding hand.

“Keith, right?” Hiroshi asked, smile genuine when he leaned down to be closer to Keith’s height. He put out his uninjured hand towards Keith, gesturing for the kid to shake it.

Keith, still holding onto Shiro’s arm, made a sound, moving around slightly to now hide behind Shiro, his large deep lavender eyes cast over Shiro’s shoulder in worry.

“Who are you?” He whispered.

Shiro kept his arms outstretched, looking behind his shoulder to watch Keith’s ever evolving expressions.

“My name is Hiroshi Shirogane. My son emailed me, asking me to come by the harbour to help you, since he said you didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

Slowly, Keith nodded. “Don’t need one.” He mumbled. 

Keith seemed to take in the room, sighing with a bit of relief and moving towards Hiroshi from underneath Shiro’s arms. It was carefully and methodically done, but Keith ended up taking Hiroshi’s hand into his own, somewhat astonished by the size.

“So you know my name, and even if your hoodie said it, fat good that’ll do me if it’s wrong. So may I ask for yours, properly?” Hiroshi, ever the gentle giant asked.

Keith glared, but eventually looked down towards the wooden floor, playing with his hands at his waist. “Name’s Keith, like you thought.”

“Do you have a last name, Keith?” 

He made a stifled sound, and eventually enunciated with slowly precision- “Ko-ga-ne. My name is Keith Kogane.” He looked as though he were ashamed it. As though it held no meaning to anyone else but him.

“Well, Keith, just like my son said- he made us all casserole for dinner. With beef… Apparently. How about we sit down and have some?”

Keith’s stomach growled again, and he looked between father and son.

“And it has beef?” He asked, the spark growing in his eyes while drool pooled in his mouth.

“It has beef.” 

“Oh, hell yes! I’d love some if it’s alright, sir.” Keith exclaimed, jumping up and down and bundling his small hands up in excitement. He turned back to Shiro, giddy, “It has beef!” He whispered loudly.

“Hey, no swearing in my house, or no beef for you.” Hiroshi jokingly chided. 

Keith turned his head and tilted his chin in honest confusion. “But Hell isn’t a swear, it’s a place. At least that’s what Mr. Labonte says…” 

Hiroshi pointed a firm finger at Keith, a hand placed on his hip. “In my house it’s a swear. And no swearing until you’re 16. Isn’t that right, Takashi?”

Keith turned back to Shiro in confusion. “Takashi? I thought your name was Shiro.”

“Shiro’s a nickname. It means light in Japanese, so I thought it fit better.” Shiro tried to explain, knowing the beat-around-the-bush explanation was rather pathetic. 

“His Mom made it up for him.” Hiroshi spoke up, a hint of a Southern accent evident behind the tone. His expression turned sour, thoughts of Shiro’s Mom drifting back to him as they always did. Taunting. Teasing. Killing.

The man turned away and walked towards the kitchen with a harsh breath. “Come on, boys. Dinner’s warm and ready. Might as well dig in now.” He muttered, picking up the fallen knife and beginning to wash it. Afterwards, he exchanged it for another, and silently began cutting out the rest of the pieces of casserole and placing them none to gently on the plates, not even once returning to his injured hand.

Shiro saw Keith turn in on himself, his hand brushing against his arm in worry. He watched Hiroshi leave and walk around robotically with wide eyes. Keith looked back to Shiro slowly, guilt obvious on his face.

“Your Mom gone too?” He asked easily but tone small, not wanting to upset Hiroshi further. Shiro was surprised by the ease of Keith’s question. It was as though he was just asking Shiro what time it was.

Shiro didn’t respond and instead only nodded his head.

*********

Shiro found himself the next morning in his now usual spot, right beside Keith’s bed with a bandaged hand in his own. He was trying to work out the kink in his neck from the night before when the door opened. 

He noticed the tall, slim figure walk gracefully towards him, steaming food ready in her arms. She placed his breakfast on the bedside table, making sure he could see the warmed goo.

“Compliments from the chef?” Shiro chided, watching Allura sit at her usual spot at the foot of the bed. She held onto her own bowl of pink goo and sparkles with quiet intent, dipping her spoon into the dish as soon as she was sitting. And then Shiro realized something was different with this situation. Looking at the ticker, Shiro recognized it as being closer to the evening in human standards. Meaning, shouldn’t Allura be with everyone else in the dining room?

Shiro decided he needed to ask the obvious question. “Why are you not having dinner with everyone else?”

The Princess placed the spoon back into the dish, movements slowing. She seemed to think it over, glancing back down at her dish. “… Because I owe you an apology, Shiro. You and Keith both, uhm, however long it takes for him to wake.” She responded. She played with the spoon now, moving it from side to side, mesmerized by the pink swirls and yet never taking a bite.

“Allura, you really don’t-“ 

“But I do, Shiro. If not for you, then for myself.” If the Princess interrupted him, than Shiro understood the importance of the matter. Maybe Shiro didn’t need to hear her apology, but he understood how important this was for the Princess to admit out loud. So he sat back, letting go of Keith’s hands and glanced towards the white haired beauty.

“I have a certain standard of due diligence I owe you as Paladins of Voltron. And as the last remaining Princess of Altea, I owe everyone the same kind of respect. Because of my ignorance, or absentmindedness in the matter, I completely overlooked the cryopods. I forgot how they were first made, and since allying ourselves with Galran members of the Blade of Mamora, and having Keith present as part Galran, it was in my duty to make sure everything on this ship was Galra-friendly. And I overlooked this procedure, because everything had been alright up until this point.”

She looked towards Keith, ears intently drawn towards the beeping machines.

“He’d never needed the cyropods before, I had never even thought about- It doesn’t matter now. The point is, because of my lack of duty, Keith could not enter the cryopod to heal, and now we have to wait until he heals himself. If that ever happens.” She reached for the bump of his foot beneath the blanket, running a hand soothingly over his covered toes.

“I hadn’t realized how important he’s become to me.” She admitted, her voice gentle, and Shiro was fascinated, found himself unable to look away. Allura held a certain amount of charisma around her, forcing every eye to be drawn towards herself at all times.

To Shiro, Allura had been born stoic, while Shiro always had to pretend to be. He found it beautiful, and he hoped one day he could hold the same level of genuine power and control she did. 

She turned to Shiro, looking him over. “I’ve realized how important all of you have become to me.” She reached for his hands, warming them inside her palms. As slim and elegant as her hands were, Shiro was always amazed at how they were the same size of his own.

“Shiro, I know this is difficult for you. And I know you don’t want anyone worrying about you. I understand that mental block you have as a leader. But you can come to me, just as I know I can come to you.”

Shiro shook his head, looking away. Oh no. This was the true reasoning, wasn’t it? And Shiro couldn’t take it. No interrogations. Not right now. Just as Lance had broken his dam, Shiro could feel his own building up, close to breaking.

“I can’t say I’m fine, Allura, you know as well as I do that it’s a lie. But-“ The beeping machines caught his interest, his gaze falling towards the jet black hair against white. It was the stark contrast that always caught Shiro off guard. Someone with so much spark shoulder never look so close to death.

“I can’t talk about it. I’m scared if I do-“

“It’ll all become a tsunami?” She responded, a hint of an Altean expression mixing in with her own great understanding of English. 

Shiro nodded his head, thoughts drifting back over the days imprisoned, to fighting in the arena the lights, the blood, the kind creatures who- no. Not here.

This. This was exactly the route Shiro didn’t want to go down. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Not when Keith was incapacitated. He couldn’t handle the memories with Keith being incapacitated.

A hand nudged his knee, forcing Shiro away from his thoughts. Intense blue opened a valve inside Shiro, and he felt the stray tear begin to fall. He bit his lip, letting it fall anyways while he covered his quivering jaw.

“We’re all here for you, Shiro.” Allura promised. She sat back in her seat, picking up her food goo and proceeding to eat as though Shiro wasn’t just about to have a breakdown, tears and all.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes and pressed his nails into his palm. When he felt the skin begin to tear, he felt his body relax, his mind no longer buzzing. When he felt himself return, Shiro grabbed the food goo with a hiccup, digging into the warmth that had a beef-like texture, even if the taste was more sweet.

Shiro couldn’t help but think about how Keith would have enjoyed the meal. He sighed, doing as she wished.

“I miss him, Allura. I really miss him.” 

“I know you do, Shiro.”

“No, you- It’s just. It seems like whenever we’re finally back together, finally have a sort of arrangement that we’re happy with, something rips us apart: foster families, Kerberos, individual missions, Zarkon, the Black Lion, and now? Comas. For some reason, the coma is the most surprising to me.” Shiro exclaimed, the hint of bitterness in his voice as obvious as a red marking across a completely white sheet of paper.

He heard Allura make a small noise, moving her now empty dish to the side. She clasped her hands together.

“I have one more confession, Shiro.”

Ahhh, changing the subject to make the distressed individual think about other things. A classic in Shiro’s books, even a favourite the he used often. Hey, it worked, but usually on other people. Shiro couldn’t think of anyone that hadn’t been his Dad to use the tactic on him.

“I happened to see you and Lance talking over the monitor last night.” She admitted. And yet there was no guilt in her expression.

So Shiro asked the obvious question. “Did you hear anything?”

“No!” She was surprised by the question, seemed even a little angered by the thought of it. “Of course not. I knew that whatever happened last night needed to happen between you and Lance, no one else. It was a private conversation. I would never break that bond of trust with my Paladins. Making you think I was spying on you at every corner? Sheesh, Shiro, who do you think I am? Zarkon?” She chirped.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Spying on your subjects would just make you a terrible Princess.”

“It’s simply barbaric. Can’t have that for our politicians. It’d just destroy the foundation of all our hard work.”

“Oh, no.” Shiro stated sarcastically with an indignant roll of his eyes. “A politician who lies to get what they want. Can’t have that, can we?”

“Never. It’s just preposterous.” She smiled, recognizing the joke behind Shiro’s words. She studied history throughout the Galaxy enough to realize the common theme of leaders and liars. She promised herself to never do the same, and instead look out for the best for her people. She only hoped that she was so far doing a good job.

“I know you needed to say it out loud, Princess. But I hope you know that we never blamed you for the cryopod incident. And if it hadn’t ended well-“ Shiro stumbled at the thought- “Well, even then, we still wouldn’t have blamed you. Or Lance. Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or anyone else in this war.”

Because of course, the only one that could be blamed was not the gunmen. No, he’d only been doing a task he was given to perform. And Keith, definitely not; he’d only been helping his fellow paladin.

No, Shiro believed there was only one person who could be blamed for Keith’s near death injury.

And that was Shiro himself. 

***---***----***

Ryou made an entrance just as Hiroshi finished setting down all the plates of food. The twin held Keith’s now dry hoodie in his hands, as though extremely proud of himself for correctly cleaning a child’s piece of clothing.

“Hey, Hiroshi, when the kid wakes up we can give him this back- Oh hey, kiddo! How’re you feeling?”

Keith blinked widely behind his long black bangs. He held his fork awkwardly, two pieces of casserole already shoved his mouth before anyone else had even sat down. The kid was starving or at least he felt like he was, but that thought was quickly displaced as he looked towards the other figure.

He remained silent before asking, “Am I concussed? Why am I seeing two of you?”

Ryou laughed loudly. “The names Ryou, kid.” 

“Twins.” Shiro whispered, and promptly cut into his piece of casserole with both his knife and fork. Keith wanted to sneer, since his dinner etiquette was so perfect it seemed like he’d gone to school for it. Keith watched intently while Shiro cut into the dish, his right pinky extended and movements fragile. He then noticed everyone seemed to be eating as such. Backs straight, shoulders high, elbows off the table. Keith turned back to his dish and back to Shiro’s. now interested in how he held his fork. Keith studied his own grip sheepishly, ashamed. He placed his fork down before trying to establish the ‘prettier’ grip, wanting to blend in with this group. 

Usually for Keith, the proper table etiquette was grab something quick and eat it fast or don’t eat at all. There was no such thing as slow eating, talking throughout dinner, holding yourself high and holding a fork and knife pretty-like. Keith had never seen that before, except on tv from where Keith would watch, hidden behind a wall while his foster parents of the month sipped on a beer or wine, laughing along with the stupid laugh tracks.

But Keith was anything if not adaptable to his surroundings. He had to be. 

So ignoring the protest from his stomach to eat faster, Keith slowed down, tried to match everyone else’s speed. He saw Ryou from the side of his eye, watching Keith’s quick change of behaviour with a small smile on his scarred face.

And all too quickly, Keith finished the plate. And no one else was even close to halfway. So with large doe eyes, he looked at Shiro expectantly.

“Want seconds or something?” Shiro asked behind a giggle, gulping down some water. Keith nodded his head fervently, holding his plate like he didn’t know if he could get up and get it or give it to Shiro or one of the adults.

Shiro pointed towards the glass pan on the counter. “Go help yourself.” He gestured kindly.

Keith jumped up and cut out a piece the size of Ryou’s hand. Shiro looked at his Dad, wondering if that was allowed. Hiroshi simply shrugged, returning to his previous conversation with his brother. 

Shiro sat back and watched with a slacked jaw. He wasn’t sure where the tiny kid would keep it all, but no one said anything about it. How could they not say anything about this? They were adults, weren’t they? They should say something!

Ryou and Hiroshi continued talking about their work, and how Ryou was going to be sent back East to the desert soon, which he was excited about. “No damned cold air. Just heat, scorpions, and the desert.” He smiled. 

Keith looked at him in confusion, but piled another forkful of food into his mouth as he sat back down.

“Like it?” Shiro asked, piling up the last bit of his meal and using his knife to gracefully slide it onto his fork, Keith closely invigorated by this new technique Shiro had just used.

“It has meat.” Was Keith’s only answer.

“Well, yeah. Beef, like we said. But you act like you haven’t had meat in years.” 

Keith shrugged. “Not years. Just two months. Monsieur and Mme. Labonte are vegetarians. Like, weird vegetarians. They won’t even eat eggs unless they’re from chickens from their friends.”

“So they’re vegans?” Shiro asked. 

Keith shrugged, not knowing the meaning of the word. “Maybe. I dunno. They like it, but it’s not for me.” Keith admitted, shoving the last and final spoonful of casserole. The kid looked like he was about to puke as he sat back on his haunches, holding his stomach from behind Shiro’s too big sleep shirt. It was a dark navy blue t-shirt, and had a picture of a Polar Bear with sunglasses and beer that said, “Aspen is that way,”, while pointing his furry middle finger. Shiro had thought it was funny when he saw it during their family trip two years back, and promised he’d never wear it to school or outside his house if he could have it. He kept to his promise, and still loved the shirt to death, even if it was getting a little small for him.

It all honesty, Shiro thought that Keith made it look cooler than he ever did.

“Monsieur and Mme. Labonte…. He runs the saw mill on the East Side, right” Ryou asked, jumping into their conversation. Keith nodded, hands still on his belly.

Hiroshi and Ryou looked at each other expectantly, another silent conversation being had.

Finally Hiroshi sighed, and turned to Shiro.

“The dinner was delicious, son. Why don’t you get the sleeping bag out of the closet and set up your room? Keith, you can sleep there for tonight.” He offered, and Keith looked at him like it was Christmas morning.

“Really? You’re letting me stay here? Just for tonight?” 

“Of course. There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. Have at ‘er’”

Keith smiled, taking his hoodie back from Ryou and pulling it over his torso. He grabbed his and Shiro’s empty plates and placed them in the sink, beginning to look around for the dish soap. 

Hiroshi offered a gentle laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Keith. You’re the guest here tonight. Just go get set up in Shiro’s room.” 

Shiro knew the hidden words underneath. His Dad wanted to speak to Ryou. Privately. With a capitol P. 

Shiro nodded and grabbed Keith’s arm, forcing him down the hallway. “Come on, Keith. My bedroom is this way.”

They walked the short distance from the kitchen to the bedroom, Keith surprised by the smaller space.

“We moved after my Mom passed,” Shiro admitted when he noted the kid’s confusion while he stared at the rooftop with illuminated, plastic stars. “The older house had too many memories, Dad said. So we moved here.”

“Is this a trailer house? I lived in one of those before. It was cool.” 

“Nah, but it should be. Honestly I think a trailer house would be bigger than this guy. But it’s just me and my Dad, and sometimes Uncle Ryou who comes to visit before he gets deployed by the Garrison.”

Keith looked around, making his way to touch everything but never actually doing so. His small hand just hovered over the objects. 

Shiro had multiple posters hanging up, consuming of only athletes and space. His small bookshelf was stacked with random comics, and some of his Mom’s university textbooks about astrophysics. 

“What’s with all the Nasa gear?” Keith asked, gasping in awe. He stopped short of silent before making his way to Shiro’s telescope near the curtain covered window. Shiro started undoing the sleeping bad that he knew he was sleeping in that evening. 

“My Mom worked as an astronaut, and was a professor for the Galaxy Garrison for a short period beforehand. It’s actually how my parents met.”

“Oh. Was your Dad a professor at the Garrison too?” Keith asked, playing with the telescope. Even though his back was turned and his one opened eye was attached to the scope, Shiro could see the extreme hint of interest by the way Keith talked.

“No. Both my Dad and Ryou worked in the army. And for a while Ryou worked alongside the Garrison and eventually introduced my parents when my Dad was visiting, since he knew she was my Dad’s type.” 

Pillow. Checked. Blankets clean. 

Keith hummed. “Did that make your Uncle Ryou mad? Since he probably stole his girl?” 

“No,” Shiro had to laugh. “My Uncle Ryou’s gay.” 

“Oh…” Was Keith’s very wise response. Shiro made a small noise and even began singing a tune under his breath until after a few moments of obvious thinking, Keith wildly exclaimed, “Wait, but aren’t they twins?”

“So?! That doesn’t make my Dad gay!” Shiro exclaimed, baffled as he dropped the blanket in surprise. 

“Well it should! They have the same genetics. That’s how it works, isn’t it?”

“That has nothing to do with it! They’re fraternal twins, anyways, so that means they’re two different people.”

Keith backed off then, obviously knowing less on these subjects than the older boy.

“What does your Dad do now?”

“Just research for the local University. I don’t really know the specifics.” He answered, watching Keith’s back.

“And your Uncle Ryou: is he still at the Garrison?”

Shiro shrugged. “I think so. He’s on contract, and I know he goes back every once in a while… You know it?”

“Yeah. An instructor came to one of my schools once, and it kind of just stuck with me. I kind of hope I can go there one day to study, but he says you need good grades, which I got, but also a letter of ref- ref.. something.”

Shiro smiled.

“Maybe it was fate we all met, then. Maybe Ryou can write you that reference letter one day.” He said, enunciating the word of reference letter. 

Keith seemed perplexed by the idea, of a stranger offering something so vastly out of Keith’s reach. He couldn’t believe it.

“You think he’d do it? One day?” He asked, voice small and disbelieving. It seemed like a nice thought. Too nice of a thought to ever come true by the looks of things.

“Sure. Maybe. You’d have to ask him.” They were just kids being kids, dreaming about impossible possibilities. The world still seemed full of adventure, and Keith seemed to finally relax.

“You like space, huh?”

Keith went rigid, briefly looking between Shiro and the telescope.

“Uhm, yeah. Just, there’s something out there. A feeling, you now? That one day I’d go to Space. It just seems right.”

Shiro turned to his bedside table, sighing. He looked towards an old photo of his Mother, smiling while holding onto a toddler Shiro like he were Simba, ready in her full uniform before her 8 month long space exhibition right in front the aircraft. She’d always said Shiro could do anything he wanted, and if he worked hard and continued to be an outstanding citizen, he’d deserve the world, even if that meant one day leaving it behind.

Yeah, space felt right, like it’s where he was supposed to be.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asked finally, scooting up the bed to sit right beside Keith. His knees accidentally hit the kid’s bent waist.

“Looking for a constellation. You should be able to see one from way out here. There’s no city lights in the way.” Keith explained. Shiro got up, was about to place his hand on Keith’s back when he noticed Keith flinched away.

He held his hand up, backing off and moving it towards the telescope instead.

“Anyone specific or just anything? Maybe I can help you out?” 

Keith smiled giddily with his tongue sticking out between his teeth, his mess of hair displayed in all angles around his pale features. The boys spent the night looking up at the stars, making plans about the future that they could never be sure would actually happen, but made the promises anyways.

*********

It was late into the afternoon two and a half weeks into Keith’s coma. As of late, everyone had begun to drift away from the room, spending less and less time with Keith. But even so, they still made sure to spend at least an hour everyday with their Red Paladin. They felt he deserved as much anyways. 

Today, that hour seemed to line up for everyone, and for the first time since the first few days, everyone was inside the med bay, taking up their usual spots. 

Hunk was handing out a crusted baked good of some sort. He made it out of a whim, and said that despite the appearance, it had turned out pretty good.

The group sat together, laughing as they told stories.

Lance chirped up from his seat across from Shiro, having slowly working on helping himself. His personality began to shine again, nowhere as close as it regularly was, but it was progress during a time of stress. Shiro was proud of him for trying.

“Oh my god, it’s like that one time he shot out into Space, and Red had to save his ass.” He laughed, placing a palm over his mouth to conceal his giggles.

“Umm, excuse me Lance, but which time was that? I have about thirty separate occasions of that exact scenario happening inside my head,” Pidge goaded, poking fun at the Red Paladin and his certain… ability to fall into space and need saving via Kitty Rose.

“Such a damsel in distress.” Lance chuckled.

“No, more like a cub freaking out his over protective mother.” Shiro joked as well.

Shiro reached out and touched the boy’s hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“Or what about that time he got super angry with me, because I didn’t remember our ‘bonding moment’ as he called it.”

“Well, he paid you back for that one. I remember another certain damsel in distress needing saving after being stranded out on that moon. I was so right about those guys, by the way. Can we just acknowledge that fact? Again? It would do my suffering ego some good.” Hunk laughed at the same time Lance continued to argue, “Hey! She was super pretty! You can’t fault me for that!”

Shiro smiled at his friends, at the small faux-family they’d created together as Paladins. And Shiro knew that if Keith were awake, he’d agree. They’re never change anything for what they had right now.

Even if the job came with horrible losses, it came with great experiences too. Happiness and beauty could be seen if they just looked hard enough inside a dark space.

And currently, that beauty was found at the time when the dark was most dim, when all the Paladins were reaching the end of their ropes. They were fearful that their friend, fellow Paladin, brother-figure would never wake up. The stress was getting to them all, even if they tried to cover it up. Even as they laughed and filled the silence with easy talk over food goo, Shiro knew that the situation seemed as hopeless as it did that first day. That was until Shiro felt a truly rough squeeze of Keith’s bandaged hand.

“Uhhh, guys?” Shiro called, lifting himself over the bed and hovering over Keith’s limp figure.

“Keith, Keith can you hear me?” He called, a little louder than intended. The atmosphere in the room became intense as they watched everything unfold in only a few seconds.

Shiro was the first to notice Keith’s mouth begin to twitch upward, a groaning sound tearing from his throat as he opened his lips, breathing in a deep inhale. He’d twitched before. He curled his toes before. He even barely grasped Shiro’s hand He hadn’t yet made a noise. Or move like he was.

“Holy shit,” someone said.

Long, black eyelashes flared across cheekbones, slowly opening up. The deep violet opened only half way and only landed on Shiro, never moving elsewhere. Shiro heard his heart spike as his friends began to jump around joyously, shouting and slapping each other’s backs.

For Shiro, who remained stilled and unmoving over his friend, could pinpoint the exact moment when the world turned quiet.


	4. Upon Falling Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a goddamn cornball and this is the most random, weird ass story I've ever written. It's cute, though, I'll kind of give it that? Anywho, 'tis the final chapter! Hope everyone enjoys! Keith awakes! Reunion! Enjoy the Sheith angst and fluff! :D And thank you everyone who has left a kudos or a comment during this fics lifetime. It means the world to me each and every time! :) <3
> 
> (And lastly, if you put the chapter's names all together, that was the original fic title.... ENJOY!)

After that first day, Keith spent the rest of the summer practically glued to Shiro’s side. Shiro was ecstatic to have made a new friend who hadn’t abandoned him for summer camp or family that lived way, way East. 

However, Keith had returned begrudgingly back to his French Foster parents house each night, but when it became too tough, he’d always slip away and meet up with Shiro, wrapping himself safely underneath Shiro’s blankets. It hadn’t been easy, and the abuse wasn’t exactly a secret. It had taken a while for Keith to ease up around Shiro, allow the preteen to touch him, hug him, calm him down. When Shiro had finally broken through and Keith allowed it, Keith simply felt like he wanted his presence around all the time, never wanting to let Shiro go.

Keith always had nightmares, and Shiro always made them go away. It was after they were awake after vicious screaming and unconscious clawing that Keith made his vehement hatred known about the Foster parents. He talked about them almost nightly, wanting to blame it on all Frenchman, even going as far as making jokes about the French culture. 

‘How do you know when a Frenchman’s been in your backyard? You garbage cans are empty and you dog’s pregnant. I saw that one in a movie.’ Shiro had felt bad for laughing. His Mother war part French and she was still one of the loveliest people Shiro had ever known. Of course, Keith didn’t know about this at the time and Shiro didn’t tell him. 

A month and a bit into their haphazard schedule, an anonymous caller let the police know about the abuse.

Monsieur Labonte was suspended from his job and placed on trial, and Mme. Labonte yelled at Keith, believing it had been the child to ruin her life. As though he had been the anonymous caller. He wanted to scoff. Keith was already scared of them, he didn’t need to provoke them any further to add more flames to the fire. 

The woman screamed, and cried, and broke a vase, but Keith left with no bruises except for the ones in his mind. Though in retrospect, he felt like those were the worst bruises to bare.

He was placed into a new home, where the abuse wasn’t physical and instead was just complete neglect. They hadn’t asked Keith his name, and instead showed the young boy straight to his new room and left him. They had a dog, though, and Keith got along just fine with the old retriever. 

After that, there were many many more foster parents and orphanages in Keith’s life, being tossed around home to home like goddamn hand me down toy.

Not all of them were bad though, according to Keith. Most could be really good in the short while they lasted. The problem was Keith never let anyone get too close unless they were Shiro and his family, believing they’d just leave him in a ditch as soon as they could. Most were fostering the child for the tax money or submerging their own guilty consciousness for something shitty that happened in their shady pasts, anyways.

Keith also had a shitty record behind him, ripe with school fights and rebellion against authority figures. And Keith always said that no one good person wanted to deal with a bad kid like him.

Shiro had never seen Keith as a bad kid, just someone who’d been let down by the system time and time again. Keith was never the problem in Shiro’s mind, and had a right to his feelings. Sure he’d lash out, but that’s only because he’d never been taught any differently.

Three years into their friendship, and his Uncle Ryou had started teaching both of them Jiu-jitsu. They still spent the summers together, now jumping up onto Shiro’s roof and climbing the top of Keith’s foster parent’s apartment building to get a better look of the stars. They spent the fourth of July together every year, Hiroshi always finding the best seats along the water to view the fireworks. 

And during one dinner, where Uncle Ryou taught Keith how to properly fillet a fish, Shiro had heard Uncle Ryou jokingly tell Keith he could call him Dad, since he’d always jokingly call him son. Keith seemed to take this to heart, and even if he knew it wasn’t real or proper, called him Dad anyways. 

The year Shiro got accepted to the Galaxy Garrison was the same year Ryou had been approved to foster Keith, taking him to live in his small shack in the desert near the Garrison.

Even if they were miles apart, so close and yet so far, Shiro couldn’t keep himself from being happy for Keith. According to all of his emails, he’d never been happier. Shiro couldn’t help but smile when reading them, his roommate Matt making fun of him, but also couldn’t help but miss Keith’s laugh. 

That was until Uncle Ryou mysteriously disappeared one night without a trace, leaving fourteen year old Keith to fend for himself and be placed right back into the foster care system.

As much as Shiro tried, he lost traced of his friend. He remembered their wishes, about both applying to the Garrison and studying at the military base. And so Shiro hoped and prayed everyday that he’d see Keith’s application from when he’d sneak in the Garrison’s databases, his roommate Matt helping him through the system. He considered himself lucky to have Matt become his best friend, the glue to Shiro’s stick. He knew Shiro better than Shiro knew himself, and together they’d aced every exam and beaten multiple simulator scores. 

Shiro let himself fall apart in front of Matt only one time.

It was during the middle of summer before his last year as a student at the Garrison, Shiro sat from his spot along the harbour, a beer in his hands as he listened to the silence. The city on the other side of the harbour had grown, the bustle even louder from when he was a child. There seemed to be live music in the local pub along the waterfront, Shiro tapping his finger along his bent knees while the half moon shone brightly down from above.

His Dad walked up behind him in silence, older, eyes more tired and exhausted. The chemotherapy hadn’t been going well.

“Something on your mind, Champ?” Hiroshi asked in a raw voice. He decided not to comment on the open alcohol in his underage son’s hand, and instead sat down and watched the harbour.

“We used to do this when you were a kid,” the older man remembered, his scars baring a whole new type of pain with age.

Shiro’s eyes never moved from the water, even when he felt his old man sitting beside him. Shiro exhaled, tightening his grip on the beer. 

“How did Ryou know about Keith?” 

Hiroshi rubbed his hands together. “Is that why you’re here?” 

“It is the anniversary, isn’t it? Of his disappearance? I think about it everyday, and I know you do too.”

“Son, there’s some things better left unsaid-“

Shiro’s head twisted around suddenly, eyes pleading. 

“Please, Dad. Maybe some things are better left unsaid, but I want to know. For Keith, he never-“

“Your Uncle Ryou loved his mother.” Hiroshi said swiftly, cutting of his son from an oncoming rant.

Shiro quite honestly had gone through his own list straight through from A to the entirety of the Kana Alphabet. And that possibility had never even entered the realm of his playing field. He blinked. “But Uncle Ryou was gay.”

Ever the gentle, usual smile was offered ‘“It wasn’t a romantic love, Shiro. They were each other’s soulmates, and they cared deeply for each other probably more than your mother and I ever had. But they were friends, each other’s wingmen. And it had never been romantic.”

Shiro still didn’t quite believe this. He understood experimentation, had even fooled around with boys and girls alike to figure himself out at school. “Even without romance, people still experiment. Wonder. Have needs. It could still have been, despite Uncle Ryou’s words…. So maybe Keith was Uncle Ryou’s?”

Hiroshi took Shiro’s hand into his own. “You don’t’ have to worry, Shiro. Keith is not Ryou’ son. He was just a child that Ryou used to make his own amendments with, stop all the guilt he felt from losing them both.” Shiro had nothing to say to that. His Father was always the first to know about these kinds of things, and Shiro was smart enough not to argue the mute points. The man as right, after all. Shiro had been concerned with that aspect, his own increasing feelings for a boy he hadn’t seen in literal years.

“Ryou never told me the details, but one day he told me that Keith’s mother was pregnant, and how he’d be the best Gay Uncle since the kid’s Dad was a deadbeat dealing coke. He was even made the unofficial God Parent, since she didn’t have any other family, and realized her mistake since having sex with the idiot.” Hiroshi’s calloused hands ran through the sand, digging lines into the curbed hill. Shiro listened to his Father’s harsh breathing from the cold night air.

“But apparently one day, a few months after the baby was born, she got scared. She said she needed to run away or else they’d find her; kill her son. Ryou didn’t understand at the time, but she just up and left. She was found sometime later, having committed suicide somewhere in Brooklyn. Your Uncle was completely distraught. There was no sign of the kid. We searched everywhere for her son, but the world’s too big, and the government doesn’t care about the whereabouts of orphaned kids. We tried everything. It was fate that you ran into him that day, Shiro.”

Hiroshi looked at his son, really looked at how much he’d grown into a young man. He’d always been proud, but not he was overpowered with the feeling. 

“Yeah I think it was fate. I think in more ways than one that you two met.”

Shiro smiled at the memory. “He bit your hand.”

“And I still have the scar! But I’ve suffered from worse.” Hiroshi turned back to the city, the familiar saddened look he’d never lost falling over his mask. He’d gotten bad for keep his mask in place as of late, just in time as his Son took in the reigns, and never once let his own slip.

“Mom?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah. Mom.”

Hiroshi got up from the bench, walking away, feeling the tiredness suddenly creep up on him.

“I’m proud of you, Champ. Everything you’ve done at the Garrison, following your Mom’s career path and your dreams. You’ve turned into a fine young man, and I know your Mother would be proud as I am.”

Shiro tipped his head towards his father, noticing his slightly limp frame. This kind of talk, this wasn’t something they did. Ever. They loved each other, that was indefinite. But to say anything like this out loud? It was unheard of. 

“Do you need help walking home, Dad?” He asked cautiously.

His Dad’s back remained turned, his entire body accentuated by the lights across the way, making him glow against the night’s darkness. Hiroshi made a waving gesture with his hand, letting Shiro know that he’d be okay for the time being. “I’ll be alright.” He tried to reassure. “You leave tomorrow, right? To head back for your summer classes?”

“Yeah, at 8.” 

“Okay. Have a fun night. Don’t get too rowdy with that one beer.” Hiroshi said, attempting to sound stern.

“I’ll try not to.” Shiro laughed.

“You know how we Shirogane men are. We can handle war and our lovers, but we can’t handle our liquor. Never could” Hiroshi called out, already half way down the concrete pathway and away from Shiro’s sight.

Shiro smiled inwardly. He did feel tipsy after the one beer, just as his father had said.

He returned to school the following day, and received the notification of his Father’s passing three weeks later. Shiro was left with the little remains of his Father’s life, selling what he could and keeping only the most important things. He’d gotten a small one bedroom apartment in the downtown part of the city, just a twenty minute bus ride away from work, or a ten minute motorcycle ride.

He thought about his father every day, his eyes red rimmed and feeling bouts of loneliness he’d never before understood.

But where one door shut another one opened, and that night when himself and Matt looked through all of the first year applications, he’d noticed one new application, right at the beginning. With the sign of acceptance already granted, he read the stylized signature: Kogane, Keith. It was written curvaceously with a pen. 

Shiro let himself fall apart in front of Matt only once. In the shadow of his father’s death, he saw the light that came from knowing he’d see Keith again. Somehow fate worked in funny ways, and Shiro had never been so grateful when he turned the corner a week later and caught a glimpse of that familiar, jet black, crows nest, messy hair. They noticed each other at the same time. Time went still, and before he could understood what happened, there was the young man in his arms, head digging into his chest. 

The hug kept them connected long after what was probably deemed appropriate inside the Garrison’s walls.

Shiro didn’t care.

*********

Sometimes love is blind. Sometimes you can be faced with love and never realize it. And the funny thing is, there are so many types of love, each one so new and exciting that you can’t help but ache for more.

There’s familial, jovial, platonic, and romantic. And those are only a few, the Latin classical terms left unmentioned.

Even though Keith may have never experienced any type of altruistic love in the past, he realized what he’d lost during his childhood he was making up for now. As he laid in a comma, running through his own memories and wishing for a knife to stab through his torso just to get them to stop- he heard them. 

He heard all of his friends. He felt all of their touches and heard each of their worries. He couldn’t remember the exact wording, but the emotion that washed over him through his friends was what remained.

There was Pidge’s optimism, Hunk’s positivity, Lance’s sorrow that slowly began to turn serene, Allura confidence, Coran’s joviality, and of course the one he felt the most, was the sturdy rock that kept Keith from floating too far: Shiro’s stoicism. Throughout the entire endeavor, Shiro had been patient to a fault, and now Keith knew it was his turn to return the favour.

His eyes brushed opened slowly, the lights of the room to bright. His friends surrounded him, looking similar to undefined blobs. The one right above him became clear first.

“Hey, Shiro.” His raw voice seemed to try and choke out, and only Shiro understood him based on the movement of his lips.

Okay, Keith rethought. He’d return the favour when he could move. Because as of right now, everything. Fucking. hurt.

“Water. Can someone grab him water?”

Allura jumped at the chance, grabbing her own mug and giving it to Shiro. Shiro nodded his thanks, returning to his friend and setting down the cup just beside him.

“Okay, Keith, I’m going to try and sit you up. It’ll hurt, okay?”

Keith nodded as much as he could, which was really just a small twitch of his chin.

Shiro took a breath, running his hands underneath Keith’s back. “One… two… three-“ Lance shot forward, grabbing onto Keith’s shoulder and neck to keep him upright while helping Shiro lift.

Hunk moved behind the two, plumping up Keith’s pillows behind his back so he could sit up comfortably. Lance and Shiro pushed him back afterwards, and Shiro couldn’t help but then drag his fingers over black bangs, moving them out of his face.

Keith took the water gratefully, mouth sipping while Pidge held the cup to his lips. He fell back, deeming himself good enough for now.

“Thanks guys.” He said, voice quiet.

Shiro sat back down, taking his hand while Pidge, Hunk, and Lance shot into the story of what had happened. Keith trying to be the hero, fighting multiple soldiers while already hurt, how the cryopods didn’t work due to his Galran genes. Like Keith didn’t already know this. Well, okay, he hadn’t known about the cryopod. That was unfortunate, but Keith was still alive. He wasn't well yet, but he was alive. That was all that needed to be focused on.

Hunk then told Keith about how long he’d been out, and how Shiro basically lived at his side.

Keith turned his eyes towards Shiro, blinking hesitantly. “So, that’s why you look like shit.” He joked.

Shiro gasped in exasperation. “Excuse me? What? I don’t look horrible! I mean- I was-“

“He’s kind of right, Shiro.” Pidge giggled. 

“You haven’t exactly been eating much, or sleeping much now that I think of it.” Hunk explained.

Keith arched a taunted eyebrow, silently saying, ‘See? Told you so.’

Shiro sighed. “Fine. I don’t look my best. But, I wasn’t my main concern.” He felt Keith tighten his grip, their fingers enlacing together.

Keith yawned suddenly, eyes desperately trying not to fall back to sleep.

Lance jokingly shoved at his shoulder. “Wow. You sleep for two and a half weeks, and you still need to sleep? And Iverson called me lazy.”

Eyes still closed, Keith fired back without a second thought. “When you wake up after falling into a coma due to you Galra ancestry almost killing you in the cryoods, I’m going to ask you how you feel.” Keith mumbled.

“Oh, I’ll be swell, unlike yourself. I’ll heal so fast that I’ll be back up and flirting and in the training area beating my current highest score.”

Keith’s eyes shot open, ready to take aim for the kill.

“You beat my high score?”

Hunk laughed, grabbing for Lance’s shoulders and pushing him out of the door while he screeched in protest. “Yeah, right. In his dreams, I bet. Have a good nap, man.” Hunk saluted Keith, following his friends out the door.

“He didn’t actually beat my high score, did he?” Keith rambled on. 

“No, Keith. Your marks still remain the highest in the arena, just after Shiro.” Allura confessed. The Princess walked up to Keith, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“It’s good to have you back, Keith. And I’m sorry for what you been through.” Keith waved her off, trying to translate through half hearted hand motions that it was never Allura’s fault, and she had no need to apologize. But there was only so much actions alone could say. He’d have to speak to her… when he could speak for longer than a few seconds without pain.

“Get some rest, both of you.” Allura chided before turning away and walking to the door. She opened it with the press of her palm, the mice scurrying before the door closed for the final time that evening. She turned to Shiro, offering a kind expression. 

“You’ll look after him, won’t you Shiro?” She asked honestly, but Shiro could see the taunt behind her eyes. She already knew what hadn’t been stated out loud.

Shiro didn’t even get a chance to nod to her before she waved goodbye and the door slammed shut.

It was quiet.

Keith turned towards Shiro expectantly. He patted an exhausted hand against the mattress, gesturing for Shiro to come closer. “Last one in the bed has to sleep along the wall.” Keith whispered teasingly.

Shiro let himself show his toothy, dorky grin. “Why, you little.” He muttered fondly, like he was reading a scripted piece of dialogue. 

He made his way into the bed, huddling behind Keith and enfolding the younger boy into his arms. Keith’s hands reached for his own. And even if Keith hadn’t showered in a few weeks, having only been washed to the best of Shiro’s capabilities, and having the greasiest hair of his life, smelling nearly worse than a dog who’d rolled in rotten fish (okay, extreme exaggeration), Shiro couldn’t have felt happier.

“You know, I’m glad some dreams don’t come true.” He confessed after a short while, feeling his mind continue to drift back to the beginning of that fateful day.

Keith made half-hearted sound, trying to question Shiro with his tone alone. 

“Sorry?” He coughed when Shiro remained silent. Keith’s eyes fell shut, tuning the world out around him. 

“The first time we met. You said you were trying to make his dream come true. You meant Mr. Labonte at the time, right?”

Keith tugged Shiro’s arms closer, memories of the day falling back. How he’d been yelled at by Mr. Labonte, how Mme. Labonte had run away for a full day and a half to get away from her husbands terrifying attitude. He remembered a black figure of man, cruelly telling a child how it was his fault that his wife disappeared.

How it had been the child’s fault that she couldn’t stand the sight of his face anymore, and hated how he never did the his dishes. Those were the reasons she ran. Those alone. Not at all because of the man’s own abuse.

Keith tensed, remembering the exact words in vivid memory: ‘The world would be a better place without the likes of you. You were never wanted anyway, and now you’re just a burden. A sorry sack of shit. You should do us all a favour and just die, that’d make me happy, at least. I mean, how could anyone ever love the likes of you. I think you should just leave. Get out of my sight before I hide your ass.’

“Hmm.”

“Keith?”

“Hmm?”

“What did he say.”

“… It’s in the past, Shiro. I’ve learned from it, and understand that I have something much better now because of it.”

“So, you’d never try again?”

Keith sees his ten year old self in his too big red hoodie he’d stolen from the orphanage and swimming trunks, standing on top of a bridge. He’d been so upset, so hurt. He jumped from the bridge that was close to the West Shore. He had only done what Mr. Labonte had told him to, completely believing he would never be wanted, never be loved. He wished on every birthday cake he actually got and every Christmas morning to one day be loved or cared for. To have a family. But after what Mr. Labonte said, an adult who was trustworthy and smart, Keith believed he was out of luck. 

Mr. Labonte was right: Keith was unlovable, and a wish on a falling star wouldn’t change that.

Keith never expected to wake up, and continue living his life despite Mr. Labonte’s words. 

Yes , Keith had suffered, but he’d grown past it all too. And really, Shiro had been there every step of the way, almost like an angel always guiding Keith towards the correct path, towards something more positive. He taught Keith how to live again, and showed him a care so deep that Keith could never try again, never even considered it.

He could never purposely leave Shiro behind.

Keith smiled, holding Shiro’s hands tighter and now against his chest. He sighed deeply. “My angel,” he murmured as sleep became too intense to avoid.

And Shiro moved closer, nuzzling his face into Keith’s neck.

Before the raven haired man fell asleep, Shiro said something that in turn made Keith’s world quiet and peaceful, just like all those night Shiro once talked about, walking along the harbour’s edge at night with his Father.

You see, they had said the words close to a million times as kids, as friends in the Garrison. However, the words stopped when platonic became romantic. So when Shiro uttered ‘I love you,’ Keith couldn’t suppress the small smile if he tried. 

It was the first time it had been said as lovers. Keith tapped at Shiro’s hand along his stomach, and tried to say the phrase back. It was more mumbled and intangible, but Shiro picked it up. He kissed Keith’s neck, tightening his hold.

Afterwards, Shiro and Keith fell asleep at ease, finally beginning to come to terms with the fact that they maybe the could have it; maybe they did deserve it; maybe they both had a right to the intense and honest emotions that came from those few, simple words. 

Maybe, all those wishes on fallen stars at the harbours side late at night weren’t for nothing. They had both found love after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This became a lot more cathartic then originally intended, especially in later chapters and I don't know how to feel about that... so I'm just going to upload the first part for now because why the hell not.
> 
> Also I loved writing young!Shiro and wanted to share him with everyone. Honestly, I saw him as a Studio Ghibli type character. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and see everyone next time.


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